Fairytales
by my day in tokyo
Summary: All she wanted was for him to be the prince and her to be the princess, but real life didn't work that way. Even if it did, she wasn't the Cinderella in the story; she was the supporting role, the mouse that helped fix up the dress and then was later forgotten. She was okay with that, though. As long as she was a part of the play. /highschool AU


Disclaimer: hahahhahahha the day I'm mistaken for James Dashner is the day I can actually write (and apparently the day I'm genderswapped too).

* * *

"When you take the time to lace up your shoes, sis, I know you're in deep."

The voice came suddenly from behind her, and Brenda nearly jumped in surprise, instantly whipping around to glare at Jorge. Her fingers pulled the initially mint colored but now so-dirty-that-you-could-barely-make-it-out strings with practiced accuracy, rolling her eyes as she pulled the bunny's ears - how Jorge had taught her to tie her shoes so many years ago. She'd never dropped the habit. Her foot dropped from the stool that she'd been supporting it on only to have the other one take its place, and she turned back to intently staring at the wall as if it would give her the answers to the universe. "I don't need your snark at the moment -"

He decided to ignore her. "Don't most girls try to dress up for a date?" he popped, gesturing towards her overworn Converse.

"I like these, they're good luck," she justified defensively, double-knotting it just to be safe. "And I've had them since forever."

"Yeah, well, that's because you don't grow."

She shrugged, turning with the smallest of mischievous smiles playing over her lips. "That'll make it easier for him to pick me up when -"

"Hey, hey, spare me the details of your gory make-out sessions with the guy," Jorge nearly whined, holding out a hand for her to stop while the other dramatically covered his eyes. She laughed in response, prodding him lightly on the shoulder before she turned back to the mirror they kept just next to the front door. "As if," she scoffed, pulling down the hem of the hoodie cut to show her midriff (though, quite honestly, she was ignoring the purpose by wearing a shirt underneath it). "I told you about this, we're not actually dating. I'm like - a counselor, I guess, to him. He's still getting over Teresa."

Jorge's brows knit together in thought as he tried to place the name in his mind, before failing and shaking his head in defeat. "Remind me who that chick is?"

"Don't call her a chick," she tsked, lightly kicking her brother's shoes with her own. _And you wonder why your shoes look so stale._ "His ex, the one who took his place in that car crash after she cheated on him? Got sent to the hospital, and -" Brenda cut herself off, brushing herself off as she let out a slow breath. "Well, you should be able to assume the rest."

And then, out of nowhere, there was a hand gently on her shoulder and his eyes had narrowed in slight concern for his adopted sister. "You're not a rebound, sis. You shouldn't be treated like one."

There was a beat of silence stretched out between them, and then the teenager shrugged off his hand, hardening the eyes that had softened for just a moment. "I'm not a rebound, I just want to help -"

"I would say that you're misinterpreting the situation but I know you better than that, Brenda. You're being ignorant on purpose - you've never been anything more to a friend to him, someone that he can go to every time there's some drama in his life, but you're okay with that. Why?"

"Sometimes you take the best you can get. I mean, hah -" she laughed here, though the humor was lost and she wondered if she'd be able to put on a believable smile when Thomas came to pick her up. "Isn't that why you have me?"

Jorge's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise at the statement and Brenda pushed it closed without her usual statement that he looked like a fish when he did that, stepping out the door and closing it gently behind her. No money, no extra steps to make sure she looked fine, no chapstick that she usually slipped into her pocket last minute. She was trying to prove a point, after all.

She could be a princess, too.

* * *

It was late September, fading into October, and the nights were chilly. Brenda had her hood pulled up over her head, almost concealing her eyes, the strings tightened as she resisted a shiver. The wind passed through the door as it opened to let in yet another couple, and she pulled up her knees to her chest. She was early, though she'd already texted Thomas to just meet her there (she'd needed to walk it off and the distance to the throwback diner where he'd promised to treat her wasn't all too far, anyway), but he was supposed to be there in about three minutes and she was getting the nagging feeling that he wasn't coming anytime soon. Which didn't make her feel all too much better, after her phone had ran out of power (she'd forgotten to charge it earlier) and she was forced to look up at all the people glancing her way like she didn't deserve to be there - not alone, anyway. And they were probably right. Probably.

By the time it was a quarter past 8, she was impatient. Another nine minutes of waiting to see if she'd been blown off before she stepped out the door, dodging all the people and nearly tripping over thin air as she made her way out. She didn't have a ride home, either, but that was fine - she had time before Jorge expected her to be back, which meant that she could take a moment to catch her breath. And that was always good.

If she tipped her head upwards, she could see two things in her line of vision; the night sky, because the sun was starting to set earlier and earlier so that the stars would come out and she could attempt (and fail) to trace patterns in the sky. She'd never been able to make out the constellations, even if she squinted. And she could also see a collage of lights in the distance, signifying buildings that she couldn't make out against the darkness, but she didn't need to - she could see the lights and, quite honestly, that was enough for her. They were like smaller, more artificial versions of stars; still comforting, still warm and appealing nonetheless. There was the plus that they reminded her that she wasn't alone - that she was surrounded by other people just trying to live their everyday lives, just like her. Except sometimes, she still felt like the outcast.

Maybe it was because she was trying to hard to be the special one, but there was a thin line between being special (typically had a positive connotation, and what she thought most princesses classified under) and being wrong. She was different, yeah - just not in the right way, not in the way that she wanted. She wasn't different in the way that she could always get the prince; she was the supporting character, because even if the other lead died, she still wouldn't be the one to take her place. Friend Number 3. She figured Minho and Newt always managed before her.

But she was still a friend, and she was salvaging everything she could get at the moment because it could be so much worse. And yeah, that sounded desperate, and besides Jorge, she'd never tell another soul so that she could try and manage with whatever dignity she had left. She was desperate, though. It wasn't a nice feeling, to know that you were in such a hopeless place that you weren't striving to be the one so much as the backup, the scenery, the commoners. It wasn't a nice feeling to convince yourself that there was a chance even though you knew you'd already given up. But it was what she was stuck with, in the unfortunate random dealing of the cast.

Unless there was the possibility that it wasn't so random, but she didn't want to think about that.

She hadn't even left the block on a light jog, gaze focused in front of her though she was in that stage of staring-not-seeing and even though her eyes were wide open, she didn't notice that there was someone in front of her until she'd bumped into him, breaking out of her trance and instantly mumbling several apologies under her breath. She'd been about to step forward and continue when the same person caught onto her sleeve and she finally bothered to look upwards, only to find an apologetic face smiling down at her.

"Hey, Brenda, sorry I'm late -"

Lightly, she tugged her sleeve out of his grasp, trying to make sure that none of the thoughts that had been playing in her mind showed on her face. "No, no, it's fine, there's no need to apologize." She glanced down, realizing that she was outside, and instantly tried to piece together an excuse. "It was really stuffy in there so I was just wandering around -"

Thomas smiled down at her, and she found whatever hate had been formulating in her chest because she was getting tired of unwise infatuation that wouldn't seem to go away disappear within an instant, relaxing her shoulders. "I know that you were leaving," he cut her off, tucking his hands in his pockets as he leaned to the side to get a better look of the diner. "And I don't blame you, it was my fault that I was late because I stopped by Teresa's grave on the way here and lost track of time, sorry."

At the mention of the name Brenda had stiffened again, but apparently not enough for him to notice because the smile was still there as he started towards the doors again, looking over his shoulder to prompt her to come along. "We're still eating, right? Because I thought you wouldn't give up the milkshake and fries even if I didn't show up," he joked lightly and she could only give a quiet chuckle really just laughing at how wrong that was, following him inside. The waitress who she'd been telling her "date" would come in just a few minutes eyed her down, probably annoyed, and Brenda couldn't really blame her. After all, she was too.

"Table for two?" Her voice was challenging, as if she was daring her to mention that they were actually waiting on a third party. With her hand on her hip and blond hair fixed in a bun with a pen on top of her head, she led them to a booth in the corner when Thomas just gave a charming smile and nodded.

The ghost of her usual smile quirking up the corners of her lips just slightly, she slid into the seat across from him and laced her fingers together, resting her head on them as he tilted his head at her. She cocked a brow at that, questioning him without words what he was looking at. He leaned across the table, and for a second Brenda hated herself due to the thoughts that flew through her mind, and commented just loud enough for her to hear, "It's not polite to keep your hood on, yeah?"

She'd forgotten she'd been wearing it in the first place and she rolled her eyes, tugging at it to loosen it and pulling it off her head. "And you know so much about manners, Mr. I-Was-Twenty-Six-Minutes-Late," she retorted, reaching for a menu though the tiny smile already there grew just in the slightest bit, apparently egging Thomas on. He was confident around her, always joking and teasing - though she'd seen him with Teresa and it was something completely different, really just him being cute and awkward and her shutting up his stuttering with a kiss to the lips. More proof that she was playing the wrong role whatever this was.

There was a difference between playing the wrong role and thinking that she was, though.

"Says the girl who misses English class every other day and sleeps through it the rest -"

"Nutrition is important," Brenda dismissed with a shrug of her shoulders, "and it's the first class in the morning. You can only expect a teenage girl to do so many things."

He laughed at that, shaking his head before he reached for a menu himself and hid his smile behind it - the way you'd see a little kid doing, and Brenda had to purse her lips to keep from smiling even further. "However, this teenage girl specifically is supposed to be a role model, don't you think?"

"I grew up under the influence of Jorge and you've met him," she popped in reply. Thomas pretended to think over that for a few moments, before shrugging and giving her a mischievous smile as he leaned back in his seat. "Oh, that's true. I s'pose I can't argue with that, can I?"

Her mouth opened slightly and she folded the menu back up again to gently hit him with it, tsking under her breath. "Hey, only I can insult my brother because he's my brother, you're supposed to argue -"

"You talk to me as if I'm some perfect prince with no flaws whatsoever," he chuckled, seeming to think nothing of it though that accusation took her completely by surprise. Mostly because it was true, hitting the nail on the head. How he could read her mind so easily without even realizing it was a mystery to her, and she took the next few seconds to try and recollect herself so that she wouldn't show any form of surprise, wouldn't give away anything that would give him some sort of a clue that she was making him into a prince so that she could try and be a princess, try and have the happy ever after that she knew wouldn't come anytime soon, if ever. He'd taken to skimming the menu, though, so as of the moment, she was in the clear.

But it still irked her. Somehow.

"Keep telling yourself whatever makes you sleep at night," she murmured, lamely aiming for a joke and it seemed to work to some degree, pulling a smile out of him. In the artificial light of the diner shining down on them, she could make out all his features if she really just looked - and without thinking, she'd extended a pale finger towards his face.

"You've got an eyelash -"

He flinched away from her touch and she instantly reeled back, embarrassment coloring her cheeks soon after as she gave him a few apologies and looked away. Using the back of his hand, he rubbed at his cheek (failing in getting the eyelash off but he didn't realize that), and went back to the menu, "I'm thinking of trying the cookies n' cream milkshake, you?"

She shrugged, mind in a million other places, and turned her gaze back to the menu as well though she was far from processing any of the words. It was another awkward thirty seconds that felt like minutes expanded into each other before a waiter arrived, a clearly fake smile plastered on his lips and she felt sorry for him for a moment when their eyes met, a sort of _I understand how frustrating people are_ look and he slid her a genuine small smile. "Ah, another cute couple -"

He was only trying to be polite and Brenda understood that much, but that didn't stop both her and Thomas from immediately informing him otherwise. Because, apparently, it mattered so much that these strangers who they'd probably never see again didn't have the wrong impressions of them. He looked like he doubted it and she almost wanted to laugh at how much she wanted it to be like those scenes in movies where two best friends claimed that they weren't in love with each other but really were. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to argue and simply asked if they had any drinks in mind.

"Brenda." The low voice got her attention and she shook her head to release herself from another daze, blinking. "Sorry, what?"

"It's your turn to order."

"Oh, right, sorry, I'll just have a vanilla milkshake." Plain, everyday, something that she could get anywhere because she felt like that described her fairly well.

Vaguely, she registered the waiter saying something about taking orders for food in just a moment (which she suspected would rapidly turn into minutes, but she didn't care all that much). And then, suddenly, after he'd left, Thomas' voice was cutting into her thoughts as well and she almost wished that there would just be silence for a bit, so that she could get herself in line and stop being so - well, if she was going to put it honestly, pathetic would be the word. "You alright? You seem off, today."

Brenda glanced out the window - even though the glass, if she really tried, she could make out warm yellow dots of light. She let out a breath, trying to offer him a reassuring smile without her heart in it, and replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Today was just a tiring day, Jorge and I had kinda an argument and I guess it's still on my mind." It wasn't exactly a lie, not really. It just wasn't telling him the complete truth.

He nodded, features softening just slightly (though maybe that was just herself tripping out). "You could always talk about it, if you like?"

"No, it's fine." Her answer was a bit too rushed and she could tell that he was thinking something of it - hopefully not the right thing, though. "Sorry, it's just, it feels unfair to push this all onto you and it's my own problem to deal with, anyway."

His brows furrowed together for a moment and then he laughed softly, surprising her. "If I used that logic, though, then you'd have no reason to be with me right now, would you?"

Internally, she was scoffing and wishing that it was true. _As if, Glader boy_ , she thought, smiling softly and shaking her head though she didn't bother to elaborate past that. It was a nickname she'd given him after he'd attempted to put together a four-person band called the Glade. It hadn't worked very well. Besides two meetings that he'd told her about where all they did was munch on cookies and watch reality shows where they put a bunch of teens in a Maze and saw if they could get out, they hadn't done anything, especially not write a song. _I have much more reason to be with you than you think._

The worst part about it was that it was selfish, the reasons she did hang out with him; it wasn't to help him so much as help herself and she knew it. It wasn't something that she wanted to give up, though, no matter how morally wrong it seemed even to herself - because she thought she deserved at least some time to just get what she wanted, for a change.

Two glass cups filled to the brim with milkshakes were served to them, and without taking a sip she was already mindlessly playing with the straw, moving it in circles around the rim. Thomas had already taken to trying to chug down the thick drink without the straw (and without much luck, either, almost choking on a few of the cookie crumbs while he was doing so). She couldn't help a laugh at that, drawing random patterns on the frosted glass.

"Don't hurt yourself, huh?"

A third of the way done, he set down the glass with an audible sound, licking his lips to clear it of cookie crumbs. She slid a napkin across the table to him and he gave her a grateful smile before taking it, wrinkling his nose when looking down at the milkshake again. "I almost choked, like, four times," he commented with a shake of his head, drawing another laugh out of Brenda.

"Brain freeze?" she prompted, finally taking a sip of her vanilla. Sweet.

"Not yet, I only did a third of it. I could've done the entire thing, I think, had it not been for the cookie crumbs." Thomas was mocking disappointment. She'd always thought he was a pretty good actor.

Momentarily forgetting that she'd already had part of her drink, she pushed it towards him, not bothering to take out the straw. He didn't seem to think anything of it, having been preoccupied when she'd done it, and tried drinking furiously through the straw instead - new tactics. She slid his cup over to her side and dipped a finger into it, licking off the milkshake and making a face at how sweet it was, before doing it again.

"Hey, Tom?"

He stopped drinking his (well, hers, but same difference) milkshake so that he could look at her, eyes cheerful and bright. She had no idea what she was about to ask, what was about to roll off her tongue because she hadn't taken a moment to think about it - but she was on the verge of asking him something along the lines of, _Will you always be here?_

 _Will you always want to stay with me?_

 _Will you promise that you'll never break my heart, even if you already have?_

But that was impossible to say and she was taking too long to answer, so, with a glance down at her menu again, she gave him a small smile.

"Do you want to maybe just get the fries and ditch the meal?"

So they did that after he'd finished both of their milkshakes, sharing one small bowl of fries that she kept trying to maintain in the middle of the table but he kept pulling towards himself just a bit anyway, and that was good enough for her. Maybe not exactly a happy ever after, but she was happy enough for a single night and that was really all that she could ask for.

A night as Friend Number 3.

* * *

 _hi. I used to read TMR things all the time but I stopped for a little bit, came back and most everything on the first page is Girl in the Glade things - which are great, reading through and seeing all the different OCs are a pretty fun pastime but there's really only a handful of good ones out there and in all honesty I didn't feel like searching through all of them (and before anyone says anything about communities most aren't updated and even if they are, don't have all of the great ones with so much potential) - so this is just something random and fresh that popped up in my mind, because WOO CANON SHIPS. Also, Brenda's a babe. I personally think she's underrated._

 _idk if this is going to be a one-shot or something else but I'm writing it anyway - lemme know if any of you want more (someone fire up the Little Mermaid soundtrack), but if so I'll update atttttt two reviews, kay?_

 _Constructive criticism is always wonderful and appreciated._

 _love,_

 _Rena_


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